Ángel Ardiente
by Morbid Cheshire
Summary: It's in English, don't worry. SH2, Angela's life. R&R please!
1. Prologue: Blame

((A/N: Oh man check it out, my first SH fic! -dances- Alrighty, I was a little bit wary about posting this, since this started out just as an exercise to practice for a roleplay. XD Since then I've written a couple more chapters but I thought I'd share this prologue and see if y'all like it! This is a Silent Hill 2 fanfiction, centering on Angela's life before the game, because I love her. She's such a cute little ball of angst and misery :D Anyway, hope you guys like it and if so, review please! It makes me feel loved. :D))

_Once upon a time there was a little girl named Angela Orosco. _

_She lived in a small house with no yard and a tilting mailbox that badly needed a new coat of paint. She had a mama named Christine and a daddy named Thomas and a big brother named Joseph. When she was small, everyone was happy. Her mama would always be smiling and laughing. Her daddy would laugh too, but not as often. And her brother would play with her, or read stories to her, or just be with her._

_When she got older, things changed. Her daddy started to drink all the time. Her mama didn't smile. Her brother stopped playing with her. Daddy would hit them, sometimes, when they were bad. He would hit mama and Angela, but he would never hit Joseph. Joseph was his favorite because Joseph was a boy. Thomas wanted a son. He sometimes told Angela she was a mistake when he got mad. She didn't really understand why he would hurt her- she couldn't help being there. But she was sure daddy was right. Angela knew she must have done something wrong for daddy to be so angry with her. So she let him hurt her because she must have been a bad girl. _

_She didn't like it when he hit mama, though. He would yell and throw things and hit her, and Angela didn't like it at all when he did that. Mama wasn't a bad girl. Mama was still nice to Angela. Mama didn't deserve to be hurt. Angela didn't mind so much when he would hit her, she would rather he hurt her than mama. Angela deserved it, mama didn't. And still, Thomas never hit Joseph. Sometimes Joseph would look sad when Thomas would get angry, and sometimes Joseph would sit with Angela or Mama when they cried after. But Joseph never told daddy to stop it. Joseph didn't want to make daddy mad too. He didn't like that daddy would hurt them, because he loved them. But he loved daddy too._

_Angela quickly learned that daddy didn't like to hear her talk, so she taught herself to be quiet. She was so quiet sometimes he didn't know she was there. In school, though, being quiet was bad. The other kids never talked to her because she never talked to them. The teachers would get concerned because she didn't like to answer questions, and sometimes daddy would rip up her homework, or sometimes she couldn't do it because she was hurt. They would make her stay after school sometimes and when she was late that made daddy really angry. Sometimes teachers would ask about the marks daddy left. But Angela didn't like to talk. She didn't answer them. So the teachers left her alone after a while, even though the marks kept happening. Still, being quiet was better than when she tried to make friends and the kids teased her. So she didn't talk. It was easier that way. _

_When she was still older, Joseph went away. He left after high school, and Angela didn't know where he'd gone, because Mama and daddy wouldn't tell her. She didn't care, though, because she didn't like Joseph any more. Joseph had stopped being nice to her too. Joseph had started yelling at mama, sometimes, and he would stomp around and break things. One time, he hit Angela and she bled. Mama yelled at him, but daddy didn't say anything. Angela thought daddy might be proud of Joseph, and she knew she must have deserved it because she was a bad girl. _

_Mama left too. She went to live in a place called Silent Hill, where she was born. She said that she couldn't live with daddy any more, but she still loved Angela. Angela knew that mama loved her even though she left her behind, but she didn't want to stay with daddy. She wished mama had taken her with her because now that mama and Joseph were gone daddy hit her a lot more. Angela still didn't know exactly why he was so mean to her. He would hurt her so bad sometimes that she would have to miss school. It made her angry, sometimes, but she knew he must have a good reason for it._

_Angela knew she must have deserved it because she was a bad girl._


	2. Daddy's Little Girl

15-year old Angela hated walking home from school.

Then again, she also hated going to school, so she had a problem on her hands. She was a nobody at school. She had no friends because she never talked to anyone. The teachers thought she was a crazy goth kid, so they didn't bother her. She knew people laughed at her behing her back because of her unfashionable clothes and haircut, because of the way she acted. It didn't bother her a lot because she'd never really had any friends, but she wished that they'd just leave her alone. Other students were fond of putting disgusting things in her locker, or tripping her, or "accidentally" sending all of her books flying across the hallway after they "accidentally" shoved her into a wall. She could endure it, though. She never complained. She never made trouble. Making waves means making enemies. She'd been taught that long ago.

She hesitated on the sidewalk, pausing before entering the house. Part of her was screaming at her to take the chance to just run. Don't go inside, don't listen to him, don't face him a single time more, just go. Be free again.

But she quelled her other side. No, she couldn't do that. Her life of being beaten into a submissive, obedient daughter easily triumphed over dreams of grandeur. She turned the doorknob, suppressed a shudder, and entered.

The house was dark, and she winced as the sharp scent of alcohol pierced her senses- not that it was unusual; it just meant she'd have to tread carefully today. Thomas Orosco preferred to enjoy the fuzzy blur of alcoholism in front of the television, with absolutely no distractions. Since the living room was in the center of the house, she'd just have to lay low and keep quiet to avoid disturbing him.

A low growl came from the armchair. "You're finally home." No such luck of anonymity today. The sound of his rough voice froze her in her tracks. "Get me a cold one from the fridge." She nodded stiffly and started to walk to the kitchen. Years of conditioning made her respond to his demands like a pathetic, broken little machine.

_Jump._

_How high, sir?_

_Run._

_How far, sir?_

_Cut._

_How deep, sir?_

She pulled open the refrigerator door and felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach.

It was empty.

There was nothing.

Not the drink he wanted, no food, nothing. She felt her body go numb and her throat constrict with fear. Thomas always got what he wanted…

She slowly went back into the living room, noting the many empty bottles littering the floor and swallowing nervously. He hardly glanced at her, only muttering a short "Well?"

"Daddy… the fridge, i-it…"

"Spit it out!"

She winced as she heard the venom in his voice. He was a bear rousing himself to bat aside the pest bothering him…

"D-daddy, the refrigerator is empty… I… I'm s-sorry…"

"Angela," he began in a dangerously quiet voice. She cringed and stepped back slowly. She knew that tone.

"Please, I…"

"I told you to go shopping, Angela."

"I-I-I'm sorry, I… there was no money and…"

He stood up.

He actually raised his heavy frame from his armchair throne to turn and face her, the insignificant servant who so carelessly angered him again. She cringed and shrank back, trying to make herself as small and non-challenging as possible.

"I'm sorry…" she whispered, the mantra both an apology and a plea.

His swift backhand was expected, striking her face sharply. She did not cry out. She knew at this point her voice would only anger him more.

"Worthless bitch," he snarled, striking her again. "Too selfish to do anything for your old dad?" He had already worked himself up- hiding was no use. She forced her muscles to relax, trying to remain supple to better absorb his blows. The best course of action now was complete submission.

_Honor thy father and thy mother…_

Eventually, he tired and sank back into his chair, leaving his quivering daughter on the floor.

"Wallet's on the shelf," he grumbled.

She coughed, wincing as her hand came away with blood. "Y-yes, daddy."

"Don't forget again."

"No, daddy."

"That's my girl," he muttered grudgingly, turning his attention back to the television. She nodded weakly and crawled to the kitchen, leaning against the counter and breathing slowly, rasping slightly. She was in pain, but she would live. She was safe now. He had used up his energy. He would leave her alone… She glanced warily towards the living room and noticed she had bled on the floor.

It was beginning to stain.

Eyes darting to her father, knowing it would be another fight, she pulled herself painfully upwards and went to find the paper towels.


	3. Save Me

((A/N: Thanks to my mystery reviewer whom I've lovingly dubbed Triple Question-Mark Man/Lady. This one was hard to write for two reasons- one, because I LOATHE her father but love writing as him because he is _such _a bastard; and two, I feel so terrible putting Angela through this. XD Then again, this IS her backstory, I'm just retelling it. Yes. I'm gonna keep telling myself that... enjoy, my reader minions!  
Oh, if any of you were wondering, "angel aridente" means "burning angel" in spanish. :3 Orosco is a spanish name, right? ...Right?))

"Angela!"

His voice made her cringe even when he wasn't in the room. She'd taken refuge upstairs after dinner, escaping relatively scot-free. Unfortunately it seemed he wasn't through with her. She crept downstairs hesitantly, pausing in the doorway to the darkened living room and listening to the buzz of the television.

"Yes, daddy?"

He motioned, indicating it was all right for her to approach. She stood to the side of the armchair, keeping her gaze firmly glued to the floor

"Look at me," he commanded, and she slowly raised her eyes to his face. He smiled.

"Come sit with your old dad."

She gaped wordlessly at him as alarm bells went off in her head. He never acted this way. He could be tolerant, he could be neutral, he could be all manners of infuriated, violent or cruel- but never pleasant. Ever.

She couldn't quite figure out a proper response. A vague feeling of unease settled in the pit of her stomach as she considered her options. The safest was to listen to him- but the longer she stayed, the more likely he was to lose his temper.

His eyes narrowed at her hesitation. "What's the matter with you? Sit down!"

She jumped at his bark and looked around, noting the lack of other chairs. "…On the f-floor?" she asked quietly.

"Of course not!" he said irritably. "Come here."

She hesitated again, out of her element. His thick hand shot out and wrapped around her slim forearm, jerking her sharply towards him. She gasped and stumbled forwards, and he maneuvered her so she sat clumsily in his lap. She looked at him, shocked and terrified he'd take offense- and he just grinned mischievously.

"There, that's better."

She was beyond confused. Normally he could barely tolerate her presence, and now he was inviting her to sit with him in such close proximity? The entire situation was unreal. Perhaps it was the alcohol. They cloying, sour smell hung in the air like smoke… though usually drinking made him violent, not affectionate.

She flinched as she felt his hand on her back. He glanced at her, seeming almost surprised at her reaction. "Easy," he muttered, making no move to hit her as she'd expected. She calmed when after a few minutes he'd still not threatened violence. In fact the entire experience was sort of nice. She _never_ spent time with him like this since she was at least 5 years old. Allowing her guard down for the moment, as he seemed to have no intention of hurting her, she let herself slowly relax, even leaning slightly against him when he prompted.

She tensed as he wrapped his arms around her stomach, but again he did not hurt her as she'd thought. She squirmed a bit uncomfortably and he glared at her in a way that made her immediately still. Considering the situation, she was in awe at the treatment she was receiving. Looking back, she noticed he hadn't struck her all day. He'd snapped at her in the morning to hurry up and turn off her alarm, he'd grumbled at dinner about her burning it, but not once had he actually hurt her.

And now they were _cuddling._

Unbelievable.

…Maybe he was changing his ways. She knew it was foolish to think a single day of kindness meant he was planning to be nice to her from now on. Her cynical side was screaming that it was all a ploy and she knew it was probably right… but she wanted it to be true. She wanted to believe they could be friends again, like when she was little…

She found herself reminiscing about a day when she was around 7 years old. It was early November, and the leaves were changing into gorgeous shades of yellow, orange and deep red. There was a carnival in town, the last of the season. He hadn't quite become the alcoholic degenerate he was now; he still attempted to act as a responsible father. Closing her eyes, slipping easily into the memory--

She nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt his hand snaking up under her sweater. She tried to stand before his grip around her waist tightened, keeping her in place. She twisted around to stare at him in alarm, and he grinned at her.

"W-what--?"

"Shh," he whispered, "just relax." She gaped at him in disgust before springing to her feet, surprising him with her speed. He glared at her, melting her bravado quickly. "Didn't you like it?" He growled in a dangerous tone, raising himself to his feet. She cringed and took a step back.

"D-daddy, please…"

"Can't you see I'm doing you a favor?" He continued, smiling twistedly as he slowly approached her. The brief sense of safety she'd had vanished, leaving her with a cold feeling of dread. This whole thing was a bad idea…

"See, you're too ugly, stupid and selfish to get a guy of your own," he snarled, voice laced with venom. He had backed her up against a wall, she was starting to get panicked- there was nowhere to go. He grabbed her chin and tilted her head back, forcing her to look him in the eyes.

"Face it," he hissed, voice dropping to a whisper, "you know you loved it, you little slut." And with that, he leaned back and delivered a quick punch, catching the terrified girl off guard as he got her straight in the face. She fell to her knees, gasping in pain and protecting her face instinctively. He proceeded to kick her in the ribs, knocking the air out of her.

"Just like your mother, you know you liked it," she heard him laugh through the haze of pain. He'd gotten her good. Her head was spinning, colored spots floated lazily across her vision, and black mist hovered in the edges of her sight. She considered allowing herself to sink into the blissful nothingness…

He was undoing her belt.

He was _undoing _her_ belt_.

He was leering, smirking, laughing- and he was UNDOING HER BELT!

_NO!_

She lashed out with her feet, attempting to kick him away. He managed to dodge; she was still sluggish and weak from his earlier attack. She'd thought that would enrage him- he just laughed mockingly.

"So you like it rough?" His hand closed over her throat, cutting off her air supply. He leaned over, grinning, to hiss in her ear, "So do I."

She couldn't breathe.

She couldn't see, she couldn't hear and she couldn't _stop him_ and he hurt her (_oh god please no)_ he hurt her in ways she never thought he would (_daddy please stop it_) there was no sound but the blood rushing in her ears (_it hurts_) there was nothing but fear and pain (_someone please_) and it felt like it lasted forever until she sank into blessed unconsciousness.

(s_ave me_)

Some time later she found herself curled on the floor, lit only by the blue glow of the television. She glanced over at the armchair where he was sleeping, snoring in blissful unawareness. She took a deep, shuddering breath and collected herself, suppressing all thoughts and emotions. She forced herself not to think about it, to focus only on the slow and steady rhythm of breathing.

She pulled her clothing on robotically and went back upstairs, taking small comfort in the quiet and stillness of the house. Her room was dark and she didn't bother turning on the light. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she wrapped her arms around herself and shook with revulsion. Her skin felt like it was crawling, she felt grimy and tainted and impure. She wanted to both scream and never speak again; she wanted to tear the memory straight from her mind…

And for the first time, she wanted to kill him.


	4. Taint

((A/N: Mmkay, I dunno if this will be the second to last chapter or what. I could end it JUST before she goes to Silent Hill... or, I could continue, and write her journey through Silent Hill and end at the burning staircase. Any preferences? Review! Like Triple-Question-Mark Lady. She's awesome, y'all aren't as rad as she is. xP))

She was leaving tonight.

It was past midnight and the house was eerily quiet. A half-full backpack lay open on her bed as she flung supplies into it haphazardly- clothes, food, money. She couldn't stay any longer. She couldn't look at him without feeling sick, she couldn't think about _that night_ without shaking with revulsion. She couldn't stand it anymore, and she was going to leave.

It would enrage him, she was sure. She'd never even considered it before; the consequences that would follow were too frightening to think of. Now, she had no choice. She was terrified he would catch her- her mouth was dry; her heart was beating twice as fast; adrenalin pumped through her veins. But she didn't let that sway her, even though her instincts were screaming at her to stop being ridiculous and unpack and stay where it was relatively safe. No, she was going to leave. She was going to run away and leave him and all of this behind.

She knew where she was going, too. She was going to find mama. She'd left a while ago, she'd done the same thing Angela was planning- she'd run away from him and his violence. She'd told Angela she was going to Silent Hill with tears in her eyes before she'd fled. Angela had found a map and figured out where that was. It wasn't far; she could get there within a day or two on foot. And if mama wouldn't take her, she'd go to her big brother, Joseph. Angela didn't know where he lived, but she knew mama did and she would ask her. And if he wouldn't take her, she'd live on the streets, she didn't care _where_ she went as long as she didn't need to live here with _him_ anymore.

She'd finished packing, zipping up the bag quietly and slinging it over her shoulders. She grabbed a jacket from her closet and slipped downstairs, sneaking past the living room. The television was on but the sound was off, pictures flashed past and lit the room an eerie blue. She shivered as she saw him, sleeping in his armchair as usual with an empty bottle in his hand. She stepped past as quietly as she could, hardly even breathing as she made her way to the front door. Pulling the screen door open and carefully unlocking the outer door, she made sure to close both silently so as not to alert him. She took a deep breath once she was outside, waiting for her nervous trembling to subside. Glancing around the area, she set off at a swift trot, hoping that by dawn she'd be far enough away to finally relax…

Sometime around noon, Thomas Orosco awoke from his alcohol-induced slumber. He groaned and pressed a hand to his head, trying to soothe the pounding headache that usually accompanied such overindulgence. When the pain didn't subside after about a minute, he yelled "ANGELA! Get me some fuckin' aspirin!"

There was no response.

He growled irritably- it was a Sunday and there was no school. She should be well awake by now. "You lazy bitch, GET UP and bring me some aspirin!" He roared in the direction of the stairs. He waited a moment before lumbering to his feet and stomping upstairs, muttering to himself and clenching his fists as he threw open her door, ready to teach her not to be lazy-

And there was no one there. It took him a moment to realize this, he just couldn't comprehend that she wasn't in the house. "Angela, I swear to God if you don't get in here RIGHT NOW…" he threatened to empty air, eyes narrowed. He eventually had to accept the fact that she was gone. She would have scurried in by now, apologizing and cringing and waiting for his orders, hoping not to be hit. "Son of a bitch," he murmured, before grabbing his keys from the table by the front door and making his way to the old, rusted blue Chevrolet truck he called his own.

1:30 PM. Angela was resting at a bus shelter, waiting alone for a bus that would hopefully take her to her destination. She had enough money for the trip, she was sure of it. She was going to escape. She had tentatively begun to hope for the best a few hours after she'd left, when she accepted that the sky was not going to come crashing down on her for being an unfaithful daughter. Right now, she was almost… happy. It was something she hadn't experienced for quite some time. Relief, yes- but true happiness had eluded her for almost five years.

Until the horribly familiar sound of the Chevrolet shattered it, she had almost smiled.

_No… no no no oh god please no please let it not be him please god please please oh please it can't be I don't want to go back no no no oh god please…_

She forced herself to look towards the sound despite how much as she wanted to ignore it, pretend it wasn't there, wish it away. The truck pulled up in front of her and she cringed as she heard his voice tell her in a low, very dangerously calm voice, "Angela, get in the car."

"No…" she breathed, almost inaudible. She hadn't disagreed with him in so long… His eyes hardened and she felt herself shudder involuntarily.

"What did you say to me?"

"No, I… I w-won't."

"Don't make me force you, Angela. Get. In. The. Car."

She shook her head, eyes pleading silently for mercy. She couldn't speak; even that weak rebellion had drained her. She wasn't used to standing up for herself. There was a long silence before she heard the driver's side door open. He pulled himself up and walked calmly around the car to stand in front of her, impossibly tall as he blocked out the sunlight…

"Angela, stand up," he told her in that cool, collected, horrible voice.

She didn't want to, she wanted to resist, she wanted to run, she could outrun him if she tried, he was older, larger, slower, she was quick she could make it _I can make it I CAN MAKE IT GO_

And she stood robotically, years of conditioning forcing her to move like his puppet. The slightest smile flickered across his face.

"That's my good little girl. Now get in the car. Front seat."

She obeyed silently, beginning to shake as a crushing sense of foreboding settled around her. He climbed into the driver's side, shutting the door gently and putting on his seat belt (something he hardly ever did). "Buckle up, Angela." Immediately her hand flew to the belt and she strapped herself in. She stared blankly though the windshield, trying not to think about anything, especially what would happen at home. Surprisingly, the drive back was silent. She'd expected explosive rage, flaring up as soon as he'd found her. Apparently he was saving it for later.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to roll down her window and try to flag down a passerby, or jump out and run, or grab the wheel and send them careening into a tree… anything, so long as it kept her away from him. But no, she couldn't. Her frozen muscles refused to react. He'd caught her. He'd found her and he was bringing her back and there was nothing she could do but obey because when they got home…

The innocently painted white front door sent her stomach into knots. He parked carefully and opened the door, saying quietly "Get out and go inside, Angela." She nodded stiffly and stepped out of the car, slowly ascending the front steps. He followed close behind, holding open the door and waiting for her to enter the house. He pulled her backpack from her shoulders as they stepped inside and set it on the floor.

The door shut with a soft click, barring her way to freedom once again. She was visibly shaking now, unable to keep herself calm or even hide her fear. He turned to face her slowly, painfully slowly before he finally stood watching her impassively. His eyes were flat and unmerciful. There was a long, uncomfortable silence.

Finally she couldn't stand the tension, she knew she'd only drag it out by staying silent. "Daddy, I--"

His eyes flared and he lunged forwards, grabbing her by the collar and dragging her towards him. "What did you think you were doing, you worthless brat!" He snarled, shaking her roughly. "Where were you going to run to, your whore of a mother? Am I not good enough for you!"

"No!" She cried, shaking her head frantically, trying to quell his rage. "Daddy, please, I--"

"You spoiled bitch, you think you're above me, don't you!" He hissed, glaring hatefully at her. "You think you're too good for this life, huh?" He spun around and slammed her into the door. "Little _princess,_ right!" He spat venomously.

"Daddy-"

"SHUT UP!" He balled up his right arm and she only had a second to brace herself before he punched her in the face. His fist came away bloody as her head snapped back and struck the door. "Don't you _dare_ interrupt me!" He struck her again in the stomach before dropping her callously to the floor. She gasped weakly and tried to catch her breath, but he kicked her hard in the ribs and sent her sprawling. Unable to resist at this point, she quickly curled into a ball and protected her head as he kicked her again.

"Don't you EVER try to run away again, you hear!"

"Y-yes," came the choking, whispery answer from the shaking ball on the floor.

"DO YOU FUCKING HEAR ME, ANGELA!" He roared, grabbing her and hauling her to her feet.

"Yes, daddy!" She yelped, tears filling her eyes. This seemed to enrage him even further and he backhanded her sharply across the face, hissing, "Stop crying!"

_i'm trying i'm trying please don't hurt me anymore daddy i'm trying_

"Stop your crying, you spiteful bitch!"

"Daddy-"

_I love you daddy do you hate me do you love me love full of hate stop hurting me_

"Stop!"

"Please-"

_hate fear venom pain misery agony yes stop it stop stop stop the bastard stop him_

"STOP IT!"

"YOU STOP IT!" She shrieked, an anger flaring up in her that she'd never known. She seized his hand before it struck her again, and glared straight at him, unwavering and unblinking. He was completely dumbstruck for a moment, staring at her in awe and staying completely still.

Alas, all good things must come to an end. His eyes slowly narrowed to slits and he lowered his hand. "What did you just say to me, Angela?"

_oh you've done it now you are a terrible daughter no wonder he hates you_

Her own rage faded away, leaving her with a deep feeling of dread.

_you've been bad yes bad girl bad girl you deserve this_

"I'm going to have to punish you, aren't I?" He said quietly, looking at her pointedly. Her eyes widened and she shook her head, disbelieving, beginning to shiver.

"Daddy… please don't…"

_Bad girl bad girl you deserve this you deserve everything you are nothing_

He hit her until she bled, until she was barely conscious, he hurt her until she could no longer move and she was too weak, too hurt to stop him when he grasped her sweater and jeans

_you are a mistake he does not love you and you deserve it you are tainted_

And it was so much worse than when he hit her

_Hate pain misery princess of rot_

And she tried to scream but she couldn't make a sound

_Love full of hate_

And she slept on the floor that night and for many nights after.

((A/N: When I had a friend of mine read through all of these, she cringed practically every other page and periodically commmented on how Thomas is a sick and horrible human piece of filth, and how hard this was to read because of the emotional bits. She got so into it that towards the end of this chapter, she had to put it down and yell in anger that Angela doesn't get away this time.  
I win at fanfic! -cheers and dances- :D))


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